


Be Right Back

by Except_on_Tuesday



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Car Accidents, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed Being an Idiot, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Except_on_Tuesday/pseuds/Except_on_Tuesday
Summary: Frustration and a slow day of paperwork and enduring a hyper Connor’s shenanigans at DPD Central Station prompts an exhausted Gavin Reed to leave the office for a lunchbreak.  Not long after, his colleagues see a familiar car on the news—as a twisted chunk of metal on the sidelines of a massive highway pileup.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 146





	Be Right Back

Periodically the justice system pipeline unclogged and requests for records along with orders for court appearances flooded the DPD headquarters. Officers located and ironed fresh uniforms and hurried to transform scrawled notes and reports into court-worthy official documents.

While his men scrambled, Captain Fowler fielded calls from the DA and the press. He glared out over his desk and through the glass walls of his office at the bullpen. 

It wasn’t Hank Anderson or Gavin Reed who caught the brunt of the captain’s embarrassed wrath; they were expected to be a problem. Those who were supposed to know better, on the other hand....

“Yes. I’m here.” Fowler said as he accepted another call. “You’ll have those files within the hour. Yes. Yes. Of course.” He glared at the android sitting across from Hank. _Top of the line, they said. It’ll improve your department, they said._ Fowler hated himself for falling for CyberLife’s sales pitch. _For the amount of trouble it’s caused, they should have marketed him as a weapon of mass destruction. A method of sabotaging law and order. Everyone thinks Markus and his androids were the threat, but it was all a cover to integrate their real weapon..._

Connor was at his desk swiveling side to side in his chair in time with the yellow LED swirling on his temple, one pearly hand flat against the keyboard.

_Just like a pup. All cute and innocent until it’s destroying your home, your marriage, and your possessions. Hell, it’s still cute and innocent WHILE it’s wreaking havoc. In fact, it’s so cute that you make a friggin’ video of it destroying everything and share it with family and friends..._

But that didn’t change the fact that the kid was useful to the department. After all he could and had filled out and uploaded hundreds of reports as quickly as he solved cases, but turns out that the printer Gavin had thrown out the window delivered more usable reports than the ones submitted by the android. _CyberLife clearly didn’t have a consultant on hand when they designed him._

It wasn’t until complaints from the DA and lawyers started up that Fowler had to double-check the kid’s work. No errors, but the file was closed with only two or three details.

A jury needs more information.

Which is what Fowler told Hank to tell his partner.

He didn’t know what Hank said to the android, but the next reports from Connor’s desk were 30 pages of single-spaced and bullet-pointed details including everything from the number of cracks in a floor to the amount of dust mites living in a couch. Along with every item’s chemical composition. And personal details about officers and bystanders that no one needed to know.

With each passing month the kid seemed to display some new facet of a character that hadn’t been obvious before.

_Have to keep an eye on him._ The captain thought. _If he’s developing beyond his specifications and decides that he doesn’t want to be law enforcement....that could be a real problem._

The city’s power players knew the RK800 was an asset and a symbol of power to whomever controlled it. That the DPD had managed to hold onto the android and maintain sole custody of...it...him......was only due to Fowler’s cussedness and his standing as the November DPD captain.

Anyone and everyone who came to remove the RK800 from DPD custody with some legal mumbo-jumbo or wads of cash and promises got told the same thing: ‘Over my dead body.’

Reed—that loud-mouthed meddler—was the only other person who knew how close the battle for possession of Hank’s partner had come and what Fowler had agreed to in order to secure DPD custody for several more years. Reed got a pay raise.

The captain switched his gaze to the sergeant who hadn’t moved from his seat for...well he’d been there since Fowler came in for the morning shift. According to the timesheets, he’d been there all night.

He looked it too with his darkening cheeks and the circles under reddening eyes. Twice, Fowler had seen Reed’s head droop down only to start up again and with a shake of his head and a gulp of coffee keep working at whatever he’d had in hand.

The captain caught Ben’s eye and pointed at the sleep-deprived man and mouthed ‘watch him’. Ben nodded. Nobody had fun the last time Reed fell asleep at his desk and started sleep-walking, trying to solve a homicide that nobody knew anything about. That incident had made them all concerned for the sergeant’s poor sleeping habits.

Fowler made a note to remind himself to free up more downtime for Reed. _I wonder if I can establish and enforce a mandatory workday naptime._

He shook his head at an old note on his computer. It was half obscured with more recent notations and reminders but the message lurked and taunted his lengthy failure to ‘Get Reed a Partner’.

That wasn’t going to happen any time soon. _I’ll order him to take a day off...tomorrow after all this paperwork gets finished._

\--

Gavin stretched out his legs and cracked his ankles as he worked on another report. He rarely edited the first drafts so the tedious editing ate away hours of his shift—even with copious use of the ‘find and replace’ feature. But once he put his mind to the task, he could disappear any stack of files and backlogged reports within 32 hours or so. Inevitably leaving him over-caffeinated and sore from sitting in one place too long.

But it was okay. He was fine. Had a good buzz going from the caffeine and no migraine in sight. _Good day. Good day. It’s going to be a good day. Everything’s okay._

“D—mmit.” He slurred and blinked at the tablet’s screen. _We need new computers. Ones without the..._

“Squiggles.”

Chris looked over, “Huh? You say something, Reed?”

“Shut up.” Gavin muttered as he peered at the screen and finally made out that the report he’d sent was flagged for a ‘low readability score’.

“The f—k does that mean?”

Everyone had been interested by the station’s newly installed proofing system, but Gavin wasn’t sure what it was all about. All he knew was one day everything was normal and the next day he had to fight this stupid new program that hated him.

The last correction had found 271 ‘issues’ with a 500 word report.

He tapped the ‘edit’ button on the tablet’s screen twice and then thrice. Nothing.

“D—mn freakin’ piece of...” Gavin stabbed the tablet with the unresponsive stylus. “Sh—t!” The stylus skittered across and off the desk, wedging itself under one of the chair’s back wheels. “Chris,” he snapped his fingers at the patrol cop who was trying to work through his own set of reports, “Gimme a pen that works!”

Holding back a sigh and keeping his features more neutral than an android in stasis, Chris Miller scooted over to Gavin’s desk, prompting the sergeant to eye him and extend one foot to keep the cop out of his personal space. “What—

Ignoring Gavin’s tetchiness, Chris pulled open the sergeant’s desk’s side drawer and extracted a box of replacement stylus nibs that he had stashed there the last time Reed had thrown a fit over a worn nib.

“You can’t be so rough with them.” He explained as with the dexterity of a father with a toddler he used his foot to roll the castaway stylus into reach. In a few deft motions, he had the nib replaced and handed the fixed stylus to Gavin.

“That’s,” Chris stopped when he saw that Gavin was intently filling out an electronic file with a different pen. “Where’d you?” He looked back to his desk. His stylus was missing—his personal stylus, gifted to him by his wife—in other words, NOT one of the station’s cheap office devices.

Impatient, Gavin had filched Chris’ prized stylus.

Chris waved the one he’d just repaired, trying to capture Reed’s attention. “C’mon Reed. Give it back.”

Nope. Reed’s attention was solidly on the tablet in his hands, a scowl creased his mouth and forehead, green eyes narrowed in concentration as he stabbed at the tablet’s screen.

Chris sighed and set the old, battered stylus on the edge of Reed’s desk and rolled back to his own. He wasn’t going to get into a fight with the other man over it. Not when Reed was in a mood.

A second later the asked-for stylus thwacked him in the head with enough force to stir up stars behind his eyes. “OW! Reed!”

“Shut up.” Gavin hadn’t taken his eyes from his work. “You’re a bigger baby than...” the man trailed off as he made another correction.

_I’m the one with the baby. I know about babies. Demanding little things that want all the attention._ Chris rolled the pen between his fingers and closed his eyes. _God. No. I’m turning into the lieutenant._ He looked across the bullpen to where Hank was catching a nap, exhausted from supervising a hyperactive android all night and morning.

Something to do with a bout of experimental thirium that Connor had volunteered to try after a representative from Jericho had come around asking for android volunteers for the so-called harmless experiment. Why they wanted to come all the way to DPD for volunteers, Chris didn’t know. Maybe they wanted to be friendly with Connor. Kid didn’t seem to hang out with other androids much.

Hank had tried to keep Connor from agreeing, but...well...Connor was stubborn.

‘I’ll take it after my shift, lieutenant.’ The polite android had said. The ‘I do what I want’ subtext was clear enough for even Gavin to catch from where he’d been lurking in the conference doorway eavesdropping on the conversation. Gavin’s laughter and snide remarks ended that meeting.

That had happened yesterday. _Hopefully_ , Chris thought, _Reed will be too occupied with his paperwork to cause too much trouble today. Though, he does look exhausted himself..._

\---

His barely-good mood momentarily soothed by the now functioning stylus, Gavin reviewed another case file for errors, rapidly making the required corrections and adding his signature to the file in quick bold strokes. In time with the motions, he prioritized the rest of the work he had to do for the day. _Finish this, start on those follow-up interviews, review those security feeds..._

“Gavin.”

Reed ‘yipped’ in surprise and jerked away from the hand Ben had placed on his shoulder. “Don’t do that!”

Ben hid a sympathetic smile. “I need to go take down a statement, but afterward would you have time to come look over some case files for me?”

Tired green eyes became interested. “What for? What files?”

“Nothing too interesting. An elderly woman and a set of poorly carpeted stairs.”

Reed sucked in an impatient breath and tapped his fingers against the desk and rotated his other hand in a ‘hurry up’ movement.

“Something just doesn’t seem right about it. Got a feeling. Maybe another set of eyes might help. And I thought you might enjoy a short break from all,” he waved at the crowded desk, “that.”

“Fowler’ll kill me if I don’t get these in today.” Reed leaned back in his chair, stylus between his teeth.

“Alright then,” Ben said, “No harm in ask—

“’ey I didn’t say I wouldn’t!” Reed sat upright with a 'sprong' from the chair springs; he sounded just a tad desperate. “I’m saying that if I help you out with this then you have to get off my case about coffee.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. How’d Gavin manage to turn that around? This was supposed to be his favor to Gavin not the other way around. He cursed inwardly. One of these days they were going to have to break the habit of this manipulation of the touchy sergeant’s independent nature. _Preferably after my retirement._ Aloud, he said, “Okay, Gavin. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes and then we can go over the files.”

“Whatever.” Gavin had turned back to his work, dismissing Ben without another word.

It was about five minutes later when a flash of grey-clad confidence encased in a perfect body with a perfect brain that never made mistakes distracted Gavin and set off his already shortened temper with technology.

Gavin spun around in his chair and stuck out a foot to trip the android. He failed of course. Connor’s tiny smirk mocked the impulsive action’s failure.

Both cast side-looks at Hank who hadn’t moved for the past few minutes. Connor looked back at Gavin.

Gavin sneered. “Therapy pet.” He turned back to his terminal.

Pat. Pat.

A paper folder tapped his head twice.

“Angry man.” The android’s voice was pitched for Gavin’s ears only.

“Phck!” With a blind backhand over his head, Gavin tried to swat away the folder nearly upsetting one of the piles on his desk. He slammed his hand down on the sliding papers.

From a distance it looked as if he was having a pointless conniption while Connor looked on as wide-eyed, folder pressed against his chest with both hands.

“Detective?” Connor blinked. “Are you alright?”

Gavin sputtered incoherently. He didn’t lash out as much as he used to, but his short temper was a constant presence; he felt its heat and pressure under his skin, swelling his throat and pressing against the backs of his eyes, chanting outrage in his ears and contaminating his thoughts with a red haze that transitioned black.

Hank cracked open an eye and growled. “Connor. Leave him alone.”

“I don’t need your help dealin’ with your f—in’ android!” Gavin swore louder when he got a papercut from the folders he was trying to restack. The pain chased away some of the haze. “I—

“You dropped one.” Connor pointed under the desk and hastily drew his hand back when Gavin lunged at him.

Who knew what the man would do if he did catch a hold of the android?

Gavin probably didn’t know either.

Hank growled deep in his throat. He was trying, and failing, to catch a short nap. Last night, Connor had sampled a refined dose of thirium developed by android chemists. Turns out androids could be as dumb as humans. The refined thirium idea returned to R&D and Hank, meanwhile, was left with a hyperactive and mischievous android who’d suddenly become infatuated with paint. Not creatively or productively. Just fascinated with the substance and its properties. 

The lieutenant shuddered to think of the mess the hyper android would have made of the house with his can of yellow paint.

A rumble of chair wheels and a yelp interrupted his thoughts. “Connor! Gavin!” His voice took on a warning snarl.

“You heard the lieutena—hey! Easy, cop.” Connor skipped away when Reed grabbed at him again.

Foiled of his prey, Gavin snatched up the nearest thing at hand and flicked a highlighter like a dart at the android’s head.

Connor caught the missile and saluted with it before he was grabbed by Hank and dragged back to his own desk. Hank pushed his rowdy partner down into the chair and pointed. “Behave yourself.”

Without breaking eye-contact, the android accessed his terminal. “Yes sir.”

“Reed?” Hank added the warning to the question.

“Phck off ol’ man. It was your dumb—the hell is the problem NOW?!” Gavin’s attention was redirected by the computer flagging another of his reports. A growing pain in the side of his head told him of his rising stress as surely as any android’s LED. He dropped his elbows onto his desk and ruffled his fingers through his hair.

_Give me a dead body._ He thought. Dead bodies were easier to figure out, didn’t care about language and grammar, didn’t play mind games.

He imagined a dead Anderson on the mortuary slab. A bundle of cold facts ready to be examined. Everyone in the precinct would be easier to understand if they were—

_Holy hell. I need air._

Gavin kicked away from his desk and stood up. He crouched over his terminal to try and resend the report only to find that his crappy terminal had frozen over again.

“Hey Chris, this d—mn thing’s froze. Do somethin’ with it will ya? Imma gonna run fer some lunch.” Gavin didn’t bother to see if anyone responded or wanted him to bring them anything back. They didn’t expect him to ask anyway. It was a good system. He liked it that way.

He returned Connor’s friendly wave with a rude gesture and a cold glare. _Fricking android couldn’t be trained._ Why couldn’t an ‘advanced prototype’ learn the simple fact that he wanted to be left alone?

“Idiot.” He growled. 

\--

Once Reed was gone, Hank kicked Connor under the desk. “Will you stop antagonizing him?” Hank muttered. “You’re gonna get him stirred up one of these days and get him an’ me fired.”

Connor curled his legs away and tipped his head to the side. “Why you?”

“Because after he takes a chair to your head, I’m gonna kill him with it.”

“My head or the chair?”

“Brat.”

Connor shrugged. “Just attempting to be accurate.” He shot a displeased look at the captain’s office. “And besides. Maybe Gavin just doesn’t know how to be nice.”

Hank shook his head and hid a fond smile behind a scowl. “You can’t teach old dogs new tricks.”

“Actually I taught Sumo—Oh look! Rain!” Connor bounced out of his seat and scampered over to the windows and planted both hands against the glass.

Hank ignored his own work and rolled himself over to the window. If not for Connor, he’d either still be sleeping off a hangover or already at a bar. As far as he was concerned, his partner had earned his attention in these little moments of distraction. In another few hours, the experimental thirium would work through his system and Connor would be back to his less-bouncy and mostly well-behaved self.

“If you fog up the window enough, you can draw on it.” Hank said demonstrating the technique of breathing on the glass and then scrawling Gavin’s name in the fogged glass.

Connor looked from the rain to Hank to the glass and the name. “Why Gavin’s?”

“Because, bucko, I don’t want the cleaning crew to hate ME.”

“Oh.” Connor studied the drawing he’d done of Sumo and Hank. “Should I erase it?” He moved his arm as if to wipe it away, but Hank pushed it down.

“Leave it.” He said, something tightening in his throat.

\--

About ten minutes later.

“Hey, guys,” Ben had come back from taking the statement. “Where’d Gavin go?”

“Lunch.” Chris answered.

“But,” Ben said, “We....he’s not supp—

A breaking news story spread across the giant televisions around the station regarding a fifteen car pileup on the nearby highway. The officers not called out to the scene gathered around the television.

Someone made the comment, “Glad I stayed late for my shift today; I woulda been in the middle of that.”

Even from his desk, Connor could take in more detail from the scenes on the television faster than his human colleagues. In an instant, possibilities filled his processors. His still young emotions straggled behind in comparison, but when they arrived a sense of foreboding slowed his processing of time to a crawl. 

Gavin had left for lunch.

He would have taken that route. It was the fastest route to his favorite lunch spot. The timing would have put him in the area of the crash at the same time it occurred.

He was in a hurry; he was exhausted. His reaction times would have been slowed.

Connor fisted his hands when the news showed another shot of the accident.

Gavin could be in the middle of that.

_But maybe I’m wrong._

The overhead view from the news helicopter panned the accident once more before the airspace was cleared for air medical services.

But that brief moment was all Connor needed to spot a familiar car turned on its roof on the roadside. It was the right color and the right model.

_I’m wrong. I’m wrong. I saw it wrong. It’s not his. It can’t be._

He wasn’t supposed to use Gavin’s cell unless it was an emergency. He called it twice more.

No answer. No answer.

Connor hated the ringtone, hated the waiting, hated the silence before the voicemail came on. That pause taunted him with hope. With possibility.

‘Gavin Reed. Leave a message.’

Connor ended the call and tried again. He couldn’t leave a message. What would he say?

The news replayed the image.

“Is that Gavin’s car?” Ben’s voice was hollow. “No couldn’t be.” He said at the same time as Hank who’d stood up by now after seeing Ben go pale.

_Why not?_ Connor couldn’t voice the question. He wanted to believe that Hank and Ben were right. That it wasn’t Gavin’s car. But he KNEW it was. All the evidence proved it. He tried to re-run the data, but it slipped away. He couldn’t call up the files. He couldn’t do anything. Something was wrong with his gyroscope. Connor leaned his hip against the desk. Everyone was so calm. _I have to be calm too._

Emotions were nice; they let him enjoy Sumo and Hank’s company. They also let him connect better with his co-workers around the station when they had little holiday parties. But he did not like having emotions during things like end of watch ceremonies— _NO! Gavin can’t be dead!_

“I’ll call him.” Ben murmured, but he couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate with his phone. “D—mn thing...” he whispered and half-laughed. “Can’t ever get it to work right...”

“Hang on.” Hank said as he swiped his way to his phone’s contact list. “I’ll call ‘im.” He held the phone up to his ear and waited for the call to go through. He saw Connor shaking his head, LED red.

“I’ve been trying.” The android said in answer to Hank’s questioning look. “He won’t answer. It’s just voicemail.”

Hank could sense and see the growing tension in the little group as the possibility of Gavin being seriously hurt or killed entered their imaginations. Their treacherous imaginations were constructing various future workdays and nightshifts. If Gavin was hurt, he’d keep coming into work. If he was seriously injured....if he was dead.....

Sure the scowl and insults and shoulder-knocks were gone; but they also wouldn’t hear that particular way he had of slamming and re-slamming doors; or his sudden bursts of mistimed and out of place laughter; or the no-nonsense advice buried in a landslide of criticism and personal comments. They wouldn’t feel rough hands pulling or pushing them away from dangerous situations when a suspect got out of hand.

Ben sat down, staring at the phone in his hands. “I was supposed to watch him.” He murmured. Lost in his own memories of a moody junior detective with too much energy and zero self-preservation. Had he really made it through those rough early years only to end up a casualty of a traffic accident?

The desk nearest the bullpen’s entrance looked as if its owner could return at any moment and finish up the work strewn around its top.

The rain continued to fall.

\---

“The phck’s happenin’ on the highway?”

Heads and chairs swiveled around to the station’s entrance. Soaking wet and scowling, Gavin strode into the station, shoving back the hood on his jacket causing his hair to poke up in random directions. The sergeant threw his phone onto his desk along with a damp Styrofoam takeout container. He snapped water off his jacket, speckling Chris’ terminal screen with water and pointed at his own terminal. “Didja fix it?”

Chris blinked when water hit him in the eye.

“Gavin. We didn’t...you weren’t—

“What good are you Miller?” Gavin berated the cop as he shrugged back into his jacket, hissing at the A/C chilled material. “I always have to...” he glared at the computer, “....babysitting....d—mn thing...” Gavin slapped the terminal. “Did you even try to reset it?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he stabbed the power button with the stylus at hand and held it down until the computer died.

“We tried to call you.” Ben said as he strode over to Gavin’s desk. Hank and Connor close behind.

Gavin smoothed down his hair, shivering when a trickle of water ran down his neck. “Yah. I know.” He flung himself into the chair with a world-weary groan.

“You mean...you ignored our calls?” A heavy dose of gruffness weighed down Hank’s question.

“Get off my case already!” Gavin finally noticed the little group standing around his desk. Feeling cornered he stood up and crossed his arms defensively. “Can’t I have a five f—in’ minute brea—EY!”

Several pairs of arms engulfed him. A mixture of breath, cologne, and body spray contaminated his oxygen supply. Fabrics and textures and skin brushed against his hands and face and neck. One of them belonged to Booze-Head Anderson. No amount of washing would ever get that smell out of the old man’s jacket.

“What the HELL?!” Gavin wriggled in an attempt to free himself, but one of the pairs of arms belonged to an android that clung to him like a limpet. “Gerroff me! The hell is wrong with you people?! Get the phck off!”

Hank boomed at Gavin from somewhere overhead; his voice vibrated deep inside the sergeant’s chest. “You idiot. You f—ing idiot.”

Growing hot, Gavin panted as he shrugged away from the arms and hands. “Stop!” He was being smothered. Colored spots were filling his vision; he needed to breathe. “Phck! Phck!” Through the haze, he spotted Fowler coming over a serious look on his face. “Captain! I swear—whatever it was—I didn’t do sh—t!”

“Reed.” Fowler leaned against the desk and stared at the wide-eyed sergeant caught in a group hug.

“Captain! It was just a short break! Just a five minute walk to the corner deli!” Too much coffee and not enough sleep had left Gavin’s emotional control in shreds. The only reason he could think of for all this punishment was that the captain thought he’d been slacking off too much. _He’s gonna replace me._

The fear salted the deep psychological wounds and agitated the sergeant.

Fowler’s eyes narrowed when he saw Reed’s eyes glazing over. He tried to hurry the explanation. “There was a huge accident—

“Wasn’t MY fault!” A childish, automatic defense. Reed wasn’t listening anymore. “Get the HELL—

Fowler gripped the back of Gavin’s neck in a move that he hadn’t done for years. Gavin stilled instantly; green eyes wide, lips slightly parted, chest heaving. “We thought you were in the accident.” Fowler spoke calmly. “They were worried about you.” Statement given, Fowler released his hold.

Gavin tried to jerk away, but he was still pinioned against Hank’s chest by...an android. Heart pounding in his chest, Gavin tried to process events in light of what the captain had said. But that didn't explain why...“Anderson, why is your android clinging to me?”

“You scared him.” Hank’s low rumble felt like a bass stereo.

“‘m’not apologizin’.” Gavin’s adrenaline seeped away, leaving him exhausted and cold. The station’s A/C unit always blew across his desk; along with the draft from the lobby, his corner of the station was always chilly. Now that Ben and Chris had backed off, more of that cold air was hitting his wet body and clothes.

“We don’t want an apology, Reed.” Chris shook his head. “We’re glad you’re okay.” He added.

Before Gavin could say whatever unpleasantness he had already rolling off his tongue, Ben spoke up. “You’re shaking.” He said rubbing the younger man’s arms.

“‘m not.” Gavin shrugged away. “‘m fine.”

“No. You’re soaking wet and exhausted.” He pulled Gavin by the arm. “C’mon. Get that wet jacket off. You got a change of clothes in your locker?”

Gavin tried to shrug away again. “That’s none of yer business.”

“Go get changed.” Fowler ordered, “then come see me in my office.”

“But I didn't—

“NOW REED!”

Gavin looked rebellious for a second then spun on his heel and marched to the locker rooms, muttering to himself the entire way.

\----


End file.
